Santé
by Grasspaw
Summary: Pre-series, Stanford era: Sam has a cold, but he's determined to keep going to classes and not take any medicine for it, certain that it'll go away on its own. Except that it sort of doesn't. Fortunately for him, though, he's got some good friends, an understanding professor, and one very sneaky older brother.


**I wrote this on my phone while I was supposed to be asleep last night. I've never written anything even sort of in this format before, so let me know how I did. Oh, and the part with the emails? EVIL. That was killer to get on here; fanfiction is still deleting the at signs, so just imagine it's there, would ya? I own nothing.**

"Where's Sam?"

"Asleep."

"Again?"

"Yeah, guy hasn't stayed awake for more than two minutes at a time in days."

"Do you think he might be really sick? I mean, I know he's got a cold, but shouldn't that be getting better by now?"

"Yeah, it should. And it would, too, if the moron would take some freaking cold medicine. He has some weird cough syrup phobia or something, I guess. I handed him the bottle and he just went white. Honestly, it was freaky. Like, really freaky."

"Yeah, well, guy's gonna have to go to a friggin' hospital if he doesn't get better soon. I seriously think he's got pneumonia or something..."

* * *

_J-Angel84: cn u come over tonite?_

_FTWinchester: not unless you want me to get you sick, too..._

_J-Angel84: omg ur still sick?_

_FTWinchester: just a cold. I'm ok_

_J-Angel84: go c a freakin doc, sam, ur srsly dying_

_FTWinchester: lol, thanks for the vote of confidence_

_J-Angel84: 4get confidence. i will hurt u if u die_

_FTWinchester: that's sweet_

_J-Angel84: !jdap:(wm%*#_

_FTWinchester- you know you're gonna break your keyboard slamming your hand on it like that, right?_

_J-Angel84: u no i'm gonna break your face slamming my fist into it, rite?_

_FTWinchester: geez. violent much?_

_J-Angel84- SAM GO SEE A DOCTOR!_

_J-Angel84- sam?_

_J-Angel84: u ok, babe?_

_FTWinchester: sorry, jess, this is andrew, sam just thru up, i gotta go_

_J-Angel84- bt9#4(;pw$%_

* * *

_"Hello?"_

"Hey, uh, is this Dean?"

_"Who is this?"_

"Um. My name's Andrew. I'm Sam's roommate...? Sorry, have I even got the right number? I had to copy it down from his phone when he wasn't looking and-"

_"Woah, wait, you're Sammy's roommate? What happened, is he okay?"_

"No. Well, sorta. He's got this wicked cold, and... Dang, this'll sound stupid. He's sick, and-"

_"And the little geek won't take his medicine. You'd think he'd outgrow that after twenty years... How long's he been sick?"_

"Two weeks, maybe?"

_"God, he's such an idiot... See, thing is, Sam is never willingly going to take meds of any kind, ever. So you get sneaky, dude. Spike his coffee with syrup. Stuff a pill into his salad. Slip one of those cough strips onto the next stick of gum you give him. You copy?"_

"Yeah, I... copy. But how do I keep him from going to classes? Guy won't just stay here and rest."

_"I'll take care of that, dude. Does Sam have a student email account or is he still using that gmail one?"_

"Just the gmail, I think. Thanks, man. I was about to drag him to a hospital."

_"Yeah, no problem. I feel your pain, dude... Hey, Andrew?"_

"Yeah?"

_"Is Sam... doin' okay? I mean, other than the cold and stuff. He's all right?"_

"...Yeah, man, he's fine. If you want, I can..."

_"Nah, that's cool. You just work on keepin' him medicated and I'll work on his professors."_

* * *

_From: samwin gmail . com_

_To: Barbara . dale Stanford . edu_

_Subject: class_

_Prof. Dale-  
__I'm sorry, but I won't be able to come to class on Wednesday or Friday. I've come down with a really bad cold, and I'm pretty much bedridden. John Mueth said he would turn in my assignmemts for me. As for the oral report, would it be possible for me to do it next week Friday instead? Thanks.  
~Sam Winchester_

_From: barabara . dale Stanford . edu_

_To: samwin gmail . com_

_Subject: class_

_Sam,  
Not a problem. I'll go ahead and give John your homework for the next week, too. Hope you feel better soon!  
Barbara Dale_

_From: samwin gmail . com_

_To: barabara . dale Stanford . edu_

_Subject: class_

_Prof. Dale-  
I'm very sorry, but I didn't send that last email. I don't know who did. I will definitely be in class on both Wednesday and Friday.  
~Sam_

_From: barabara . dale Stanford . edu_

_To: samwin gmail . com_

_Subject: class_

_Sam,  
That's odd, especially considering the fact that I just saw you in class on Friday and you looked like you were about to either pass out or throw up. Are you sure you're not sick?  
Barbara Dale_

_From: samwin gmail . com_

_To: barabara . dale Stanford . edu_

_Subject: class_

_Prof. Dale-  
I've been a little under the weather, but I've gotten much better over the weekend. I'm perfectly okay to go to class.  
~Sam_

_From: barabara . dale Stanford . edu_

_To: samwin gmail . com_

_Sam, seriously, don't come to class. You know as well as I do that you're the best student in my class, and missing one week will not kill you. You're a smart young man, Sam; you'll be fine._

_From: samwin gmail . com_

_To: barabara . dale Stanford . edu_

_Subject: class_

_Well, when you put it like that... Did you know that all of my proffesors got emails informing them I wouldn't be in class? It's weird.  
~Sam_

* * *

"Knock, knock."

"Hey, Jess, come on in."

"You been gargling shrapnel, big boy?"

"Shut up."

"You shut up; listening to you talk is giving _me_ a sore throat. Oh, don't give me that look. I come bearing gifts. I brought two thermoses of hot chocolate, _The Lord of the Rings_ trilogy, and... Ta da!"

"Are those homemade?"

"They're not the only homemade things around here..."

"Please, Jess, I'm sick. Another time."

"Yes, Sam, the cookies are homemade."

"I take back every bad thing I ever said about you."

"Oh, you've said bad things about me, have you?"

"Um, no?"

"Good boy. Now budge over; these movies aren't gonna watch themselves."

"Heh."

"What?"

"Nothing, just... 'They're not the only homemade thing around here'? What are you, fourteen?"

"Shut up and eat your cookie."

"Mm... Exactly what cookie are we talking about here?"

"Yeep! Hands off the goods, handsome."

"Was that a very bad pun?"

"Shut _up_! I was just teasing earlier; we are not doing this while you're sick."

"You're no fun."

"You're sick; it's not supposed to be fun or else you'll want to do it again. Just turn the movie on already."

"Hm, are you sure the movie is the _only_ thing you want me to- what, ow! No, don't hit me, I'm sick, remember? The medicine made me loopy, I swear! Gah, I'm sorry, okay, just... Ow!"

"Glad you're feeling better, Sam."


End file.
